« Spanking Stories

Kate stared down one hundred ten floors at endless tree tops. Lush green canopies spread miles north. From their home office, she could see the entire central city park. Mowed meadows contained specks. People lounging. Pristine ponds and reservoirs dotted the substantial city park. Her bare feet on the cream carpet proved ownership. She'd lost the roof terrace apartment. As Ben had predicted, the realtor, knowing she was a Hair Air co-founder, wouldn't budge on price. Its excessive outdoor footprint compromised indoor space. She'd forgone her terrace for height. Fabulous height. Elias, her personal banker, had organized a buying agent. She'd viewed only two apartments in person, neither realtor knowing her identity.

Permitted silly money, she'd eschewed the penthouse above her. Its insane views had tripled its price for equal space, a full floor. Her five bedrooms boasted limitless city views. Over one thousand feet high, floor-to-ceiling windows, three times her height, exposed her to endless light. Leaving their home office, she padded across the smoked oak floor. Inlaid in an intricate hexagon design, it bathed in afternoon rays, filling their grand salon. It befit its lofty title. Facing three directions, low white couches didn't obstruct any city view. The dining table for twelve disappeared into the vast space, a black grand piano separating the two areas. Crossing the salon, she headed into their gourmet eat-in kitchen. It was larger than their entire previous apartment. Grabbing water from their immense fridge hidden behind custom cabinetry, she sipped it beside the piano, staring down towards the city. Spotting Hair Air's office building, her heart traveled across the metropolis towards the river, passing back toward the opposite river. In the far distance, clouds met the water, hiding worlds beyond hers.

Ben's desire for extensive space had informed her property search. Two weeks ago, a small van had moved their possessions, the boxes occupying their smallest bedroom. Seeing their home after she'd moved them, Ben had approved her bold decision. His muscular arms had held her here, beside their unplayed piano. Reigning over their forever views, his shoulders had settled behind her, expressing the tranquility she'd sought for him. Master of his universe, he'd earned their statement purchase. The realtor's words. Not hers. It was home. Spacious, calm, incredible, but their home. An end-corridor window had given her original studio apartment a limited perspective. Although larger, Ben's apartment hadn't enjoyed views or space. Nothing compared to Park Tower, Apartment 110.

She'd remained home this week, sorting their possessions into locations, ordering essentials they didn't have. Dumped on the inlaid coffee table beyond the piano lay her iPad, showing Page Eight, a gossip news site she didn't frequent. Beside it, her phone. Both criticized her. Page Eight had discovered their statement purchase. 'Billionaire hair couple splash sixty million on sky-high penthouse'. It wasn't a penthouse. She'd also paid nearer fifty. Veiled jealousy pervaded the piece, despite their undeniable effort in building wealth from scratch. Ben had dismissed it, telling her to ignore it. She'd learned discretion fast, telling nobody, but gossip rags paid off building staff at prime locations. The message on her phone was worse. From her mom, it read, 'You didn't mention moving'.

Responding to Page Eight was impossible. Responding to her mom, complicated. Or not. Rounding the piano, she swept her phone off the coffee table, tapping. 'Sorry, mom. I didn't tell anyone. Tomorrow?' Adding her full address, she hit send, avoiding overthinking it.

Wandering between rooms, she admired their library sitting room, spare bedrooms overlooking the park, and master bedroom. Ending in their ensuite, heated black onyx marble spread before her. Their shower, tucked aside, left a pure black onyx landscape for her white bath, tended to by a polished chrome free-standing faucet. She flicked the faucet, streaming hot water into the sublime tub, adding her shea bubble bath. Replacing the bubble bath bottle, the river reflected in her mirrored cabinets above their sunken white sinks.

Stripping, she discarded her leggings in a pile, dropping her tee and underwear on top. Testing the temperature, she slid into luscious, creamy water, her skin softening upon contact. Settling back in the comfortable curve, she allowed herself the gentle enjoyment of her warmth. Several boats navigated the river. She deserved her view. She also deserved her bath. Wallowing in its warmth, she soaked in her comfort.

Sliding beneath the surface, she held her breath wishing away her annoyance. Telling her mom hadn't entered her mind. Privacy had become paramount, an obsession. The stupid articled proved it necessary. Damn, she hated that article. Surfacing, she burst out a fresh breath. It didn't help.

Closing her eyes, she let regret run rife. Water cooling, she opened them again. Ben stood near the entrance, watching her, smiling.

"You're home early," she said.

He grinned. "I love coming home."

His positivity about her home choice added to her guilt. She couldn't smile.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I've been selfish." She explained about her mom's message after the stupid article.

"You didn't tell her?"

"I didn't tell anyone."

"It's tricky. She's your mom."

"I feel dreadful."

He nodded. "Wait there."

He disappeared. She didn't mind. Commanded to stay, she reveled in his strength, happy in her bath. Less than a minute later, he reappeared. Held in one hand, beside him, their dark rattan punishment cane defined his serious intent. She'd packed their discipline instruments, taking the case herself in a town car. Stored in their bedroom closet, he hadn't needed to spank her yet in their sky-high space.

"I understand privacy," he said. "However, excluding your mom isn't excusable."

His tough tone penetrated her bath, spreading cold kindness where she hadn't reached.

He tapped the heavy cane on the bath edge. "Get out, Kate."

Their intimate space intensified the stern cane's threatening presence. His indelible authority offered forgiveness she couldn't muster. Rising, she shook free droplets. Obedience brought immediate comfort. Grabbing her towel, she wiped her eyes, stepping from her tub onto the heated marble, beautiful warmth delighting her feet.

"Just dry off the drops," he ordered.

Her bottom begged for her fluffy white towel. Obeying, she removed only surface water drops, leaving her tingling skin damp.

He watched her beautiful naked body move, mesmerized. He couldn't correct her relationship with her mom, but he could ensure she did.

She dropped her towel, standing naked under his raking gaze. Withstanding his blatant inspection, her pride soared. He fancied her despite her behavior. It softened the pain he must deliver.

"Grab the bath," he commanded.

Turning, she faced her generous tub. It hadn't supported her so far. Bending over, she gripped its edge. Spreading her arms, she bent deeper, presenting her bare bottom in full compliance.

The heavy rattan rested against her wet skin, its promise fierce. She bowed her head, staring between her legs. His firm feet, set well apart, defined their relationship. She inhaled, settling herself with a full exhale.

Ben watched his girlfriend. Their first ever encounter on a train, her precocious sexiness had called to him. Her scandalous little black dress had put her crisp white string panties on blatant display to the carriage. He'd recognized her naughtiness, rewarding her with true physical punishment. He'd replaced her self-applied cane flicks with full force strokes, teaching her to trust him. She'd never escape her rudeness to her mom unless he thrashed it out of her.

Calm, she concentrated on her disgraceful disrespect. The rattan lifted away. Swift air spread apart. Its critical hiss stung her conscience before its impact exploded across her damp skin. Deserved force embedded water deep in her behind, flooding her in pain. Returning, the cane worsened her misery, planting an agonizing line lower on her bare butt. She panted, wallowing in her substantial pain. Making her mom read about her in a gossip rag was pure disgrace. The furious cane cracked across her clean skin, delivering cruel pain. Pushing her heart into her hurt, she welcomed its tough duty. She couldn't overlook her gross disrespect. Neither could the cane. Its harsh application reinforced his opinion, matching hers. She held herself dead still under its ruthless onslaught.

Hot stripes struck her burning cheeks. Blasted by smooth rattan, fresh water turned simple sting into a blazing inferno. She gripped the bath harder, grateful for its powerful support. Her bare feet stayed rock still heated by the floor, her bare bottom roasted by their thick punishment cane. Panting, she realized he hadn't specified her sentence. Maybe he hadn't decided. Submission washed through her wet skin. Below her bottom, the cane settled into the tender space above her legs.

"Two severe strokes," he warned.

Denied leniency, she straightened her slim legs. Her sensitive skin deserved the cane. It was cruel, hurtful, like her. Regret exploded. The strict stick struck tight skin. Bouncing, it delivered double pain deep. She bit her lip, picturing her lovely mom. Without pause, the cane repeated its mean trick, firing oversized pain deep into her sensitive crease. She howled. Her desperate cry stole her guilt, replacing it with enduring physical hurt, a fitting substitute.

His enormous arms rescued her, pulling her upright. Protected, she softened into him. "Thank you," she whispered.

Stroking her bare back, he said, "You're welcome. You deserved it."

"I did," she said, her tone solemn, sting still exploding across her caned bottom.

His mighty biceps swept her up into his arms, carrying her into their sensational grand salon. Height provided their privacy. He placed her on her feet, turning her. Pressing her bare back, he bent her over their curved white couch, her eight severe stripes honoring his decision to cane her.

Leaning over her, he said, "I want you."

His gravel-laden tone manhandled her silky slit. She savored his vehement desire. Placed in position for his pleasure, her sex begged for him. His dense manhood penetrated her need. Under his command, she soared over their incredible city. Pleasure met pain, hard male muscle slamming into her welted cheeks. Extra suffering lifted her higher. She held her pleasure, revering him. Ruthless thrusts impaled her, threatening her stability.

"I need you," he groaned, plunging deep into her.

Released, she fell free, cascading through thousands of pleasure layers. Mighty arms slammed around her, protecting her. Deep thrusts directed her to gorgeous safety, slumped over their couch back.

He stood, freeing her, still panting. Standing back, he studied her caned cheeks. "I love this view."

Rising into his focused expression, she grinned. "Shall I bend over again?"

"Don't tempt me."

Next morning, her caned cheeks stung in tight skinny blue jeans. She greeted her mom, welcoming her through the foyer into the grand salon.

Drawn straight to the expansive windows, her mom said, "Oh my god, dear. How rich are you?"

Flipping her chestnut hair over her shoulder, she said. "We're okay. Ben told me we could afford this apartment 791 times. Our buying agent negotiated a twenty percent price reduction."

Still staring across the exposed city, her mom said, "Unreal. We paid off our home loan last year. You'll never have one."

Kate smiled. "I'm lucky." It wasn't luck. Calculated risk. Hard effort. Pure fear. While her salary had supported them both, she hadn't shared their risky position with her parents.

Her mom pulled her close. "No, Kate. You're not lucky. You're unusual."

Pocketing the compliment, Kate grinned.

Gesturing towards the kitchen, her mom said, "May I explore?"

Passing through her gourmet kitchen, she selected two Americanos on her Jura Giga, an extreme upgrade. Their dependable machine had done stalwart social duty. She hoped this clever machine would remain central to friendships. Passing her mom a thick, steaming glass, froth settling, she swept a subtle palm over her butt. Her eight stripes stung fresher, facing her mom. They carried their coffees into the library lounge. The comfortable corner offered twin views, half city and half park.

Sitting in the couch corner, her mom raised her glass. "Doesn't a maid make you coffee?" Raised eyebrows suggested her question bridged humor and truth.

"We're considering it. Maid's quarters are beside the kitchen."

"Cleaning will keep her busy. You'll have time to keep in touch."

Kate nodded. "Sorry, mom."

"I hope it isn't a sign."

Her mom's tough tone befitted her scolding. "No, mom. It isn't. Ben has punished me. I'm sorry."

Her mom stared, aghast. "Wind back. Punished you?"

Calmness doused Kate, delivering control. She couldn't un-spill her secret. Facing her mom, her sore cheeks approved of her embarrassment. Her mom, knowing, completed her punishment. "You used to stand me in my panties, facing our apple tree." Beneath the apple tree in their family orchard, stripped to her panties, she'd often fantasized about dreadful switchings replacing her boring punishment. Unmarked, her sanction had still induced remorse. As an adult, she needed a stricter covenant with her boyfriend. "Ben takes a direct approach. He canes me. They're painful thrashings. My bottom is very sore today and striped, but mom, I deserved it. I'm very sorry."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, mom. I'm not his lapdog. He doesn't keep me in subjection. But, if he declares my attitude or behavior unfit, I submit to a spanking without argument. I'm obedient and agreeable. It works for us. We don't argue. He corrects me. It hurts. I accept his leadership."

"Can you disagree?"

She shook her head. "No, mom. Debate helps no one. His decision is final. My pain is brief, agonizing, and effective. It clears the air." Her fresh welts praised her candor. She deserved her shame. Ben had caned her, instilling respect. She welcomed sharing.

"He caned you last night?"

Kate nodded.

"You're still sore today?"

Kate nodded again. "Sitting here with you, it's a fitting punishment." Watching her mom nod, she realized she'd made a sound argument. Pleasant humiliation cast its comfortable glow over her. "He'll punish me again for telling you. I deserve it for blabbing."

Her mom leaned forward. "Maybe keep it our secret."

Horror filled Kate. "No way, mom. Deceit is far worse. It's my fault. I ran off my mouth. He won't cane me while I'm still sore, but he will punish me. I won't escape. He'll decide my punishment. I'll accept it. I'll show grace, respecting his decision, despite it hurting me." Kate settled herself, giving her mom space for thought.

"You're a strong girl. I'm proud of you. You'll bear the pain?"

"Yes, mom. I'll bear it. I'll pay for my mistake. There won't be long-term repercussions. He'll forgive me. I'll apologize. He'll sentence me. He'll thrash me, mom, without mercy. I was careless. I deserve my punishment. After he's thrashed me, I'll apologize again. He'll trust in my apology. It'll be heartfelt. Humbled, it's impossible to lie. My mistake will never get raised again. It's how we're strong together." She watched her explanation land, her mom's eyes brightening.

"Thank you for sharing with me. It's very intimate. I love you, beautiful girl."

Kate grinned. "I love you too, mom."

Their relationship restored and strengthened, they continued their apartment tour. She described her buying decision.

"Ben didn't get involved?"

"He trusts me. Anyway, he has another dream. I'll show you."

Returning to the Grand Salon, her mom soaked in their three-sided city views. Kate grabbed her laptop, flipping it open. Popping it on the polished black piano, her wide screen filled with crystal blue ocean. Sitting central was a palm covered paradise island. "It's called Coral Blue. Ben's bought it."

Her mom stared. Turning, she smiled, "I imagine you won't forget to invite me sometime."

Kate's gaze lowered to the beautiful wooden floor. "No mom, I won't."